Christmas Spirits
by Laume
Summary: Another Christmas continuation of both Shake On It and Perfect Christmas. Albus Dumbledore is about to get visitors, courtesy of Harry and Severus.
1. How It Began

A/N Continuation of the continuation of Shake On It.

Harry walked into the library in the late afternoon on Christmas day to find Severus holding a book and looking pensive.

"What is it?"

Severus frowned. "You know earlier, when we thought about sicking the Ghosts of Christmas on Albus?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah?"

"Very eloquent response," Snape sneered mildly, "I have found the incantations for the Summoning."

"You mean, there actually ARE Ghosts of Christmas?" Harry said in surprise.

"Indeed. What do you think?"

The younger man bit his lip. "In the movie the Ghosts were hardly pleasant. The entire experience was frightening."

Severus nodded. "It was…harsh. Nevertheless, in the movie, the effects were quite enlightening. It seems that the Muggles have managed to relatively accurately depict these spirits."

"Scrooge certainly improved," Harry mused, "but Albus isn't…well, he isn't as mean as Scrooge."

Severus contemplated that. No, Albus wasn't nearly as mean as Scrooge, but he doubted Scrooge had hurt people more than Albus had. People had known not to trust Scrooge. People had always assumed they could trust Albus.

"He isn't mean, no, but he certainly is as blind to how his behaviour affects others as Scrooge was in the film," he finally said. "Even though he apologised for the way he handled the information regarding our biological bond, I have the impression he is still unaware how much misery both of us, but you especially, have suffered because of his decisions."

"True." Harry studied the chapter. "It says here any physical effects last only for the duration of the spell, which is twelve hours. So it won't harm him?"

"No," Severus replied. They stared at each other for a long time.

"We are going to do it?" Harry finally broke the silence.

Severus looked down at the book.

"I think I shall omit this from my report to Miss Granger as to how our Christmas celebration was," he decided, "I can explain dinner and movie. I think I shall not be able to adequately explain how we went from unwrapping gifts to Summoning rituals."

ssssssssssss

The incantations themselves weren't awfully difficult, at least not for two accomplished wizards.

When the final spell was spoken, they waited. Finally, a smokey figure began to form.

"You called?" the female shape of the figure was vague but somehow still attractive, "do you realize what you have asked for?"

"I believe we have asked for the Three Ghosts of Christmas," Snape replied.

"You have. You have asked them to visit one Albus Dumbledore, I believe. I am here to decide on your request."

"Decide?" Harry blurted out, "I thought we'd summon them and be done with it."

The older wizard poked him painfully in the ribs and the apparition turned slightly to him.

"There are conditions. First, we must be sure that the one we will be visiting can withstand the shock – for it is a shock, to be visited by ghosts. Second, the motives of the casters must be considered."

The two remained silent and waited for the woman to resume her explanation.

"The Ghosts job is not to destroy, but to edify. To set straight those who have drifted from the right path. For that reason, they refuse to be summoned for purposes of revenge only. The casters must truly love and care for the person who is to receive the visit."

She eyed them carefully, quite a feat considering she did not actually have eyes. "Are you such?"

Severus looked away. "I…I love Albus, and I care for him, but I cannot deny part of me wants revenge, as well…"

Harry gulped. "Same here. I care for him, but I am also angry…"

He sighed. "I am sorry for summoning you in vain, spirit," he ended dully, "There was nothing of this in the book, or we would not have attempted…"

"Hush," the spirit said, "I have said the Ghosts will not be summoned for purposes of revenge ONLY. I can sense you do care for the man, and he does need their visit."

She went still for a bit, and then turned to them once more. "The Ghosts have decided. They will visit Albus Dumbledore, but you will witness their visits. I will accompany you. No one will see or hear you, but you will be witness to it all."

The two looked at each other. "Very well," Snape gave their consent, "We will do as you say."

The smokey figure withdrew slightly. "The first visitor, the Messenger, will arrive at Mr Dumbledore's house at seven in the evening. I will return to you at that time."

A puff, and she was gone, leaving two slightly shaken dark haired men behind.

"Well," Severus finally regained his bearings, "I suppose the best thing to do now is to rest and have some supper. It will be a long night."


	2. Stave 1: Nicholas's Ghost

Stave 1 - Nicholas's Ghost

Albus Dumbledore sat quietly in his office. Everyone was off celebrating, and the normal flock of owls that demanded his attention was noticeably absent for one day in the year. He very much enjoyed the peace and quiet – or so he told himself.

Reaching for another lemon drop, he picked up one of his favourite books – Tales of Transfiguration, by Ovid. The Muggles had their own version, the Metamorphosis, he believed it was called. It held the most amusing tales of various truly grand transfigurations. Of course, he doubted these days even a master like himself could transfigure someone into a star, but who truly knew all possibilities of magic?

The portrait of Headmistress Derwynt coughed, and he looked up. His eyes widened as he saw the face of his friend and partner Nicholas Flamel stare back at him. He blinked and looked again.

"Yes Headmaster?" the witch asked him with interest, "anything I can do for you?"

The old man shook his head. "Eh…no. Thank you."

"Are you alright?" she asked, "you don't look well. Shall I peep into Saint Mungo's…"

"No, no, that is quite alright," he hastened to reassure her, "I thought…well, my mind must be playing tricks on me today."

"If you say so," the portrait turned around suspiciously.

sssssssssss

The smokey figure of the woman appeared once more in Harry's home.

"Prepare yourselves," she announced, "the Messenger is about to arrive."

Harry and Severus took a step towards each other, the only line to reality they would have in the next hours.

"Who…who is going to be the messenger?" Harry asked with some hesitation.

"Obviously someone who is dead," Severus muttered.

The woman motioned for them to come nearer, and held out a hand to each of them. "Come."

sssssssss

Dismissing his previous experience as coincidence, and taking some lemon drops to sustain himself, Dumbledore continued with his book. Evening drew close and by late afternoon it was already dark outside. With a quick flick of his wand, the curtains were drawn and the lights on. A candle nearby cast a flickering, rustic light on his book and he sighed in contentment.

First, there was a whirling sound. Then, a plopping sound joined it. A slight screeching started seconds later, with puffs interjecting. Before the Headmaster knew it, his office was full of noise, caused by the sudden activation of all the silver instruments littering the shelves.

"STOP! STOP!" once more taking out his wand, he managed to calm the devices and silence returned, but by now he was so shaken he decided to get ready for an early night. He would read his book in bed.

ssssssssss

"Look!" Severus hissed at Harry as they stood in the hallway before the door to the Headmaster's rooms, "It's Nicholas Flamel!"

"Nicholas?" Harry turned and stared at the ghostly figure. It was half-decaying, something at least the ghosts at Hogwarts had prevented, and it was dragging a heavy chain along with many locks that seemed permanently attached to its body. "Ugh!"

The ghost did not pay attention to them but slid through the closed door. Seeing their smokey guide do the same, Harry shrugged and walked into the door.

Ten seconds later, after having opened and closed the door, Severus and Harry stood in the room, Harry nursing a lump on his forehead and Severus muttering about idiotic Gryffindors under his breath as he handed Harry his handkerchief, wetted and a cold charm applied.

"Thanks," Harry muttered as the ghost…ghosted past them.

"Albus Dumbledore," it said.

The Headmaster looked up. "N-Nicholas?"

"Aye, Nicholas," the ghost said, rattling the chains with which it was bound, "Nicholas Flamel! You do remember me."

"Of course I remember you," Dumbledore said calmly, "but you had not returned a ghost, as far as I know."

"Seven years I have been locked away, carrying these chains of my guilt," Nicholas ground out, "seven years of torment! Of finally knowing the right thing to do and not be able to do it. Listen to me, Albus, for this may be your last chance as well."

"For many years we laboured for the 'Greater Good', sacrificing much. Much, indeed! So many things were lost by our folly, and so many others suffered. When I died, I was punished for my part in it, and the chain I carry around is a manifestation of the guilt I carry. It is dreadful, and the same thing awaits you should you die. Only yours would be much longer and much heavier."

The ghost looked at the Headmaster staring into his lemon drop dish.

"Do you not believe me?"

"The mind is a fickle thing," Dumbledore said, "it can be affected by a number of spells and potions – indeed, even by an upset stomach, result of tainted food. You could be a bit of dinner that was spoiled; or perhaps too many lemon drops, though one has to wonder if that is even possible…"

Harry eyed Severus in disbelief. "Is he really thinking that will work if it didn't work for Scrooge?"

The howl of the late Nicholas Flamel answered that inquiry. Obviously the reply didn't do anything more for Albus Dumbledore than it had for Ebenezer Scrooge.

"Listen to me, Dumbledore!" the spirit brooked no contradiction, "You will be visited by three Ghosts tonight. The first will arrive at midnight. Heed them, if you do not wish to spend eternity like me! Look!"

All looked outside in the direction Flamel was pointing. There, over the Hogwarts Lake, circled hundreds and hundreds of ghosts, each with their own chains and locks attached, moaning pitifully.

"Who are they?" Harry and Dumbledore voiced simultaneously.

"They all thought to rule. They all thought that the end justified the means," Flamel answered, "like I did. Like you do."

With that, the spirit jumped out of the window to join the others, and they sailed upwards towards the sky in a huge vortex, before whirling out of sight. Albus Dumbledore was alone again.

Or so he thought.

He shivered compulsively and nearly ran for his bedroom, where he dove into his bed.

"I guess that went according to plan," Severus said, his voice a little regretful.

"I am bringing you back now," the woman's voice interrupted their musings, "I will come for you again when the first of the spirits arrives."

They stood in the library of Harry's house once more, alone.

"Well," Harry checked the clock, "three more hours until Smokey comes back. Shall we get a drink? I have a feeling we're going to need it."

"Smokey?" Snape questioned even as he nodded his agreement to the drink, "you better not let her hear you say that."

He took a sip of his firewhiskey. "Though I won't deny that it does fit her," he finished.


	3. Stave 2: The First of the Three Spirits

Stave II: The First of the Three Spirits

"There's Smokey," Harry nudged Severus, who had dozed off in front of the tv.

The men nervously stood.

"The First of the Spirits is about to arrive," the spectre announced, and held out her hands to them again.

"I am…uncertain if I wish to witness this," Snape looked rather pale.

"It was the condition set by the Spirits, to which you agreed. There is no going back now," the woman said firmly.

"I know. I do not wish to back out, but still I am uncertain if I want to witness this."

Harry stepped closer to him, a concerned frown on his face, and the woman's voice softened.

"It is disconcerting to all involved, certainly" she sounded almost sad, "yet enlightening. Growth sometimes requires pain. The only consolation I have for you is that we come to encourage change, not to announce condemnation."

"I – are you ready for this?" Harry asked gently, "I never realized that…that we may see things that would probably upset you, as well."

"And you," Severus gave a small smile, "it is supposed to be like this, isn't it, if the condition for the ritual is that one must care for the subject. At any rate, it would appear we are under a geas of some kind to complete this journey."

Smokey held out her hands again. "We must go. Come."

With a sigh, they both complied and went off for the first tour of the night.

sssssssssssss

Albus Dumbledore had dozed off, but was woken at midnight by a strange light in his bedroom. Fumbling around for his glasses, he sat up and turned towards the source of the light.

Which turned out to be a small childlike figure at the foot of the bed. Though he was unable to discern whether the figure was male or female, what did stand out immediately was the flame on top of its head. It carried a strange hood, almost like a device to snuff a candle.

"Hello?" he said uncertainly.

"Albus Dumbledore," the voice gave no indication as to gender either, though it did sound childlike, "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

"Oh?" The Headmaster replied, uncertain, "and what is your business here?"

"Your welfare," the Spirit replied.

"My welfare has certainly not been served tonight by giving me a heart attack," the aged wizard grumbled.

Harry and Severus, who stood behind the Spirit with their smokey tour-guide, couldn't help but snicker. They hastily hid it behind their hands until remembering they could not be heard or seen.

"Your reclamation, then," the Spirit amiably agreed, obviously thinking that a debate at the start of its visit would not serve its purpose, "Take heed, rise, and walk with me!"

"We are to go through the window?" Dumbledore quickly threw on his purple star patterned bathrobe.

"Does that frighten you?" the Spirit of Christmas Past sounded amused.

"Without a broom? I could do a levitation charm…" the Headmaster already held out his wand, but the Spirit held up a hand.

"Bear but a touch of my hand, and you shall be upheld, in more than this."

"Very well."

The moment Dumbledore touched its hand, they vanished, and Harry, Severus and Smokey along with them.

ssssssssss

They arrived in a homely scene – two boys, about six and nine, and a smaller girl were seated around the hearth. A woman sat in a chair nearby, the eldest boy leaning against her knee.

"Mother," Dumbledore breathed, "Ariana."

The Spirit stayed quiet.

"Mould-on-the-Wold," Dumbledore muttered, "this was…before…."

"Before your sister was attacked," the Spirit said calmly, "before your father was arrested. You seem close to your mother."

Dumbledore smiled. "She often spoke to me. She told me stories of great wizards and witches. Aberforth accused that she taught me to manipulate and scheme, but I do not remember that – I remember only her voice."

He watched his younger siblings playing quietly together on the rug, Aberforth reading a picture book to his little sister.

"Abe and Ariana never seemed to have much interest in having stories told to them. They would rather read stories themselves. Even later…"

"She was but fourteen when she died," the Spirit reminded him.

"When I killed her, you mean," Dumbledore's voice sounded harsh.

Their small audience of two gasped, unheard by anyone but their own guiding spirit.

"Do you know which wand killed her?" the Spirit moved towards the little girl, its face interested.

"It does not matter. It was my fault. Ariana…" Dumbledore reached for his sister, but found he could not touch her.

"You changed your ways, to some extend, after her death," the Spirit remarked.

"What do you mean? I learned much – I knew I was not to be trusted with power. That the ideals that Gellert and I held…"

"Yet you gathered power to you," the Spirit said, "you became Headmaster of Hogwarts. The hero of the Grindelwald years. At that moment, these truths about your own nature may have been revealed to you, but you have not lived by them."

The Headmaster stood quietly, mesmerized by the playing children in front of him, as he pondered the words of the Ghost. It held out a hand to him again, and reluctantly he took it.

The scene changed again, this time to Hogwarts, and a Sorting.

A line of first years were herded through the doors of the Hall by a younger looking Minerva McGonagall, and Harry nudged Snape.

"Isn't that you?"

"Yes," Snape replied, "yes it is."

"Why have you brought me here?" Dumbledore asked his Spirit guide.

"By this time you were Headmaster, and Voldemort was beginning to rise," the Spirit replied.

"Many of these children would later join him," Dumbledore muttered.

The Spirit had moved to the child Snape, now sitting under the Sorting Hat, studying him intensely. "Yet this one came back."

Harry could hear Snape hold his breath.

"Yes. Yes, he did," the Headmaster said absentmindedly, "only one out of so many."

"Do you remember what you said to him, when he came back to you?" the Spirit asked, ignoring the Headmaster's mutterings for the moment.

"You disgust me," Snape whispered.

"Beg your pardon?" Harry asked, slightly offended.

"That's what he said. You disgust me." Severus looked away as Dumbledore repeated the sentence.

"But it was not the boy that disgusted you, was it?" the Spirit continued mercilessly, "the boy did the very same thing you have done, though he repented before the one person he loved lay dead. He brought the Prophesy to Voldemort, yes, but he did not betray their location that was under Fidelius. It was another who did that. They would have lived if not for that. You were not disgusted with the boy, you were disgusted with yourself."

The Headmaster did not answer.

sssssssssss

"I thought you hated Sirius because of what he did to you at school," Harry remarked.

Snape looked straight ahead, to the still image of his eleven-year-old self sitting on the stool.

"I did hate him for that, yes, but I hated him more for killing Lily. It was my fault she was in danger, but I thought I had saved her! I had warned Dumbledore and he was going to keep her safe. I thought Black had betrayed them, killing Lily. I hated him so much for that. All my efforts – my penance – for nothing. Lily lay dead, and I could only go on by being reminded that you were still alive. Had I known then, that you are my son, I would perhaps even have led a reasonably happy life. As it was, I lived to keep you safe, for Lily, and for revenge on Black."

"But Sirius did not betray us," Harry pointed out.

"True, but until well into your fourth year, I did not know that."

Harry conceded the point, and they felt the strange pull that brought them to yet another scene of the past.

sssssssssssss

The Dursley family sat happily around the Christmas tree, Vernon helping five-year-old Dudley with some sort of electronic train, as Petunia walked back into the room from the kitchen with a tray of cookies.

"Here you are, loves," she said affectionately, "men who work this hard should be rewarded."

"Thank you, honey," Vernon grunted, whereas Dudley merely grabbed a cookie.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked softly.

The Spirit merely lifted its hand towards the cupboard under the stairs. The adult Harry was already standing there, looking at it with a myriad of emotions on his face.

The door to the cupboard vanished, allowing them all to see the miserable, bruised, thin boy inside it. He had ceased trying to stare through the cracks, and was curled up on his small mattress, holding a tiny, broken knight in his hand.

Regret flashed over Dumbledore's face. Anger passed over Snape's, and he had his wand in his hand to curse the happy family under the Christmas tree, until his son laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"This is not real," he reminded Severus, "it happened a long time ago."

Dumbledore reached out a hand to touch the dark-haired child. "It was for the greater good," he muttered, "oh, Harry…"

"That is all you ever worried about," the Spirit said dispassionately, "the greater good."

"That was my business," the Headmaster replied, "it was my job to look out for the greater good."

"They were your business," the Spirit of Christmas Past pointed to the child, "the lives placed in your hands were your business! Harry was your business, Severus was your business, Ariana was your business!"

"Do not say that!" the eyes of the two observers widened as they saw the Headmaster lose his temper the first time they could remember, "I loved them! How dare you!"

Grabbing the Spirits hood, the Headmaster began to pull it over the flaming head, as if he were snuffing a candle, until its light had been extinguished and the spirit gone.

As soon as it ended, they found themselves back in Dumbledore's bedroom, the old man asleep on the bed.

"Go wait in the office," Smokey told them, "the second Ghost will be here soon."


	4. Stave 3: The Second of the Three Spirits

Stave 3 – the Second of the Three Spirits

To Severus and Harry, it felt like only seconds before an enormous amount of food and drink appeared in the room, accompanied by a giant of a man in green robes. His curly brown hair and cheerful disposition did not hide the lines of worry on his face when they looked closer.

"Come, have a drink and some sustenance," the Spirit beckoned them, "It will be a while before my hauntee wakes up."

Harry turned to Smokey. "I thought no one would be able to see…"

"Of course the Spirits can see you, although they generally will ignore you," the female ghost cast what was probably a reproachful glare towards the Spirit of Christmas Present, "the others cannot."

"Well come along, take a bite," the green-clad Spirit motioned, "if you have to be up to tag along with us all night, you will need some food."

Harry shrugged and picked up a pie. It tasted delicious.

"Thank you," he smiled hesitatingly at the genial Ghost, who gave him a bright smile in return.

"Ah, Harry. The one whose present is quite good. I always enjoy that. And what a nice Christmas celebration you gave him, Severus. It was truly remarkable, the lengths you went to so that your son might have the Christmas he so longed for. Well done indeed."

"You certainly are talkative for a Spirit who is supposed to be wise and all-knowing, aren't you?" the effectiveness of Snape's retaliation was much reduced by the blush that crept up his cheeks at the Ghosts praise.

The giant merely laughed, and blew a kiss at Smokey. "A merry bunch of observers you brought us, sister."

"Oh, get on with it," the ghost lost her patience, "there's haunting to be done, and you haven't got all night, you know. Yet To Come is already awaiting his turn."

"Fair enough," the Spirit grinned and threw a large goblet at the bedroom door. The loud 'clang' brought, within seconds, a sleep-rumpled and white Dumbledore to the room.

"Come in!" Christmas Present beckoned jovially, holding up a goblet of wine, "Come in and know me better, man!"

"Dear Merlin, not another one," Dumbledore groaned, "you'll be the death of me yet."

"Ah, time will do that job eventually. Even in your many years, you've not seen the like of me, have you?"

"No, and I wish the pleasure had been indefinitely postponed," Dumbledore grumbled in a most Snape-like manner.

"Now don't be like that," the Spirit admonished, "We will have an enlightening night, I am certain."

Dumbledore looked around his office. "Where did all this food come from? Have the kitchen-elves gone berserk again?"

"From the heart, old man. It is the food of generosity, which you have long denied your fellow men."

"I have not," The Headmaster protested, "I have always celebrated Christmas with plenty of good cheer."

"Aye, Christmas," the Spirit sighed. "But the rest of the year? Here, let me show you."

To the surprise of Harry and Severus, they suddenly stood in their own living-room, watching themselves unwrapping gifts. The old Headmaster watched the scene fondly.

"You enjoy this?" the Spirit kept a close eye on Dumbledore.

"Of course I do. They are dear to me," Albus responded. "Whatever one can say of the past, they have had their happily ever after."

"Yes, but no thanks to you. This is Harry's first proper Christmas. Come to think of it, Severus's too. How many happy years might they have had if your decisions had been different? Had you not interfered where you had no business interfering? What was your generosity to them, besides to take what was not yours?"

"I had to run the entire Wizarding World! It was for the Greater Good. None of them seem to realize! What generosity do they allow me? I am mortal, and have made mistakes as all of them. Yet they give me no generosity!"

The Spirit spoke to him, sternly, as he still watched the careful, almost ritual unwrapping of presents. "You've never given them a reason to, and yet there are some," he motioned to the two dark-haired men on the couch, "some who still find enough warmth in their hearts even for the likes of you."

The scene changed, and another family sat besides a fire. A woman, and three children.

"Their father died during the Second Uprising."

Another family. Another. Another.

"They lost two of their young children in a Death Eater attack, just before his first defeat. Then their eldest son during the second uprising."

"They did not lose anyone, but the mother was permanently injured. She is home for the holidays, but is a permanent resident at St Mungo's for the remainder of the year."

"This family's brother was found to be a Death Eater. Now they are shunned by society as a whole. The children hardly dare to go to school for the torment they face there because of their Uncle's crimes."

"For many years, you sat back and did nothing. Used a prophecy as an excuse. You placed that infant on the doorstep and waited for him to grow up a little and face that evil. Let me show you."

Wave after wave of images, showing a less declined world – not less death, but a strong people who stood up for themselves and would not allow anyone to harm their loved ones again.

"What would you have me do?" Dumbledore asked, "there is no going back, and the battle is done. Whatever mistakes I made, I cannot undo them."

"But you can atone for them. Did you not tell Severus that? I won't deny that you are old, but that does not excuse you. There is never enough time to do or say all the things that we would wish. The thing is to try to do as much as you can in the time that you have. Remember Albus, time is short, and suddenly, you're not here any more."

During the long journey from house to house, the Spirit had aged considerably. Brown curls had turned gray, cheerful, full cheeks sagged.

"That is what I meant by the rest of the year, Dumbledore. It is what I told Ebenezer Scrooge so long ago. We Spirits of Christmas do not live only one day of our year. We live the whole three-hundred and sixty-five. So is it true of the Child born in Bethlehem. He does not live in men's hearts one day of the year, but in all days of the year. Indeed, you kept a genial spirit and celebrated holidays with much cheer. Yet that means nothing, nothing at all, when outside of those occasions your decisions border on cruel and your behaviour is negligent."

"Your world may be at peace and content now, but that is merely a thin veneer. The real problem has not been eliminated – it only increased." The Spirit opened his robe to show two ill-looking, starving children. It might have been a boy and girl, but it was impossible to see through the dirt.

"The girl is Ignorance, the boy Apathy. Beware the boy especially! His is the power to bring down nations, and doom its citizens to early graves. He nearly destroyed yours – and will try again if you do not fight him."

"All may seem well now, Dumbledore," the Spirit cloaked the children again and began to fade, "but underneath, oh, underneath…"

sssssssss

Harry turned around, heaving.

"Harry?" Severus turned to support him, "are you alright?"

"No…so many dead…those children…scorned for something they cannot help…I've failed."

Severus shook his head. "You did not. You lived up to ridiculously unfair expectations and even survived. Take care that you do not start believing that the Wizarding World is your responsibility alone, or you will end up like Albus."

Their guide nodded. "Your father speaks truth," she easily returned them to the Headmaster's rooms.

"I can do something for those kids, though," Harry mused, "if the family is not opposed to it, I could offer to visit them – and make sure it is known. My visiting them may relieve some pressure on them. And those families without fathers, or mothers…"

"Funds have been raised for them," Severus informed him, "you yourself donated on various occasions. Harry, did you not hear the Spirits warning? Apathy is the greatest enemy. By taking all the work out of the Wizarding World's hands now, you only encourage their apathy. You did your part – let the others do theirs. It is laudable that you wish to visit the relatives of that Death Eater to make their life easier, but that is far as your responsibility extends."

With a short nod, but not looking any less shocked, Harry sat down on the couch. Severus did not expect that Harry would take his words to heart yet – it would take a little time to digest. The way Harry had been raised ensured that the young men always took on much more responsibility than he ought, and to be fair, much of it was thrust upon him without his consent. Another reason why it would be good to let the wizards and witches do their own rebuilding this time.

"You have a little while yet," Smokey said, "rest. The Third of the Spirits will arrive soon enough."


	5. Stave 4: The Last of the Spirits

Stave four: the Last of the Spirits

Time seemed to fly by and before they knew it, the last of the Spirits entered, quietly.

"I bet he owns a Thestral," Harry whispered, shivering a little as the figure went by. It was completely covered in black, hooded robes, with only one gaunt hand protruding from the folds. Severus seemed equally shaken.

The old man, however, nearly leapt off the bed.

"You are the last one, aren't you?"

The Spirit did not respond, but that fact did not appear to really register with the Headmaster.

"Let us get going then," the Headmaster slipped into his robe once more, apparently very eager.

"Why is he so happy? Did he overdose on lemon drops again while we were waiting?" Harry whispered.

"That could be," Snape shrugged.

"He believes that the future will prove him right somehow," their guide said, "after all, all sacrifices were for his 'greater good'. If the future is bright, he will feel himself justified in whatever wrongdoings he might have committed to get there."

"Oh…" Harry's eyes widened, "of course. The end justifies the means."

"That is more or less his reasoning," the spirit confirmed.

Snape said nothing.

sssssssssss

"Show me the Wizarding World, Spirit," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "is its future as bright as I hoped?"

The Spirit simply turned and the scenery changed to a house.

"He is dead, finally!" a man said with a sigh.

"Oh hush," his wife reprimanded, "he did much for our world…despite everything."

"Did he? At least now he'll stop demanding gratitude for it," the man grumbled, reaching for his drink with the one arm he had left.

Dumbledore had paled. "Harry? Are they talking about Harry?"

The young man, unseen to the Headmaster, also paled. "No…I'm not going to do something horrid, am I? Severus?"

The older man shook his head. "You are not, Harry. They are not talking about you."

The scene shifted to Hogwarts, and the Hufflepuff Common Room.

"He is dead," the Head Boy announced gravely, "Headmistress McGonagall has announced it to us half an hour ago."

Another student, a sixth year, folded his arms. "My brother and father died – died because he left them no choice. When Voldemort died I was happy, but now I am delighted. He was worse."

Again the scene changed. Harry and Severus gasped to see themselves appear.

"I have tried to mourn him," future-Harry said slowly, "but I cannot. I just cannot!"

"I find it difficult to grieve myself," future-Snape replied, "I am grieving what might have been, a fantasy that never had a chance to live."

"The manipulations have ended now," future-Harry sighed, "we no longer have to fear what he might do."

"Of whom do they speak so coldly?" Dumbledore inquired, "Cornelius Fudge?"

The spirit merely pointed with its withered hand, and a young woman rushed up to a man of about the same age.

"Neville!"

"Hermione! Welcome home. The years have been very kind to you." Neville Longbottom grinned at his friend, "Australia agrees with you, Mistress."

The witch laughed. "You wouldn't believe the amount of work one has to do to retain all-round status," she said, "this is my first vacation in…too many years to count. I was surprised to get Harry's letter. I was under the impression that they had reconciled."

"For a time," Neville nodded, "until the meddling fool had another of his ideas. Harry and Severus could not stand being lied to again. It pained them, but I personally think in the end they were better off. And now he is dead and won't bother them again. Or anyone else, for that matter. Perhaps Hogwarts can now recover, too, from the horrors of his reign. Slytherin is virtually non-existent, Ravenclaw seems to exist solely to provide information for Gryffindor and Hufflepuff – well, Hufflepuff is ignored to the point where they simply do what they wish and are practically a school within a school. His death came just in time – Hogwarts is about to fall. Now perhaps we have a fighting chance at rebuilding."

Severus and Harry looked at each other. "Seems like Hermione is going to do quite well on those tests," Harry smiled, happy for his friend.

"As if there was ever any doubt," Snape replied dryly, "I think it is physically impossible for her to fail a test."

Meanwhile, the Spirit impassively watched as Dumbledore shook his head frantically.

"No, this cannot be. Show me some tenderness. Something…something gentle."

At this request, the Spirit raised its hand once more.

ssssssssssssss

A wand lay on the chimney, carefully preserved in one of Ollivander's best boxes. The man stood by it, his eyes fixed upon it, a lone tear running down his wrinkled cheek. An old woman joined him, hugging his arm.

"Three years he's been gone," the man whispered, "will the pain ever be gone?"

"I don't think it will, but we will learn to live with the memories," his wife responded.

"When Voldemort died, I thought it was over. That we would be happy. I was terrified when our boy joined the Order, but I told myself he was fighting for freedom, and if he died, he would die for a good cause. My poor child," he stroked the wood of the wand, his face contorting as he fought to keep back sobs.

"My poor child. I thought I would see him be happy, marry and have children of his own to raise in peace and prosperity."

The hand clasped the wood now, the knuckles white as he turned to his wife.

"Instead, he wasted away from guilt and horror, regretting that in the end, he was not even allowed to aid that Potter child. I could have lived with his death during the war. I don't think I will ever be able to live with his suicide."

The woman cried silent tears along with him, as their fingers lovingly caressed the last thing they had of their dead son.

ssssssssssss

A white marble tomb lay near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"No…" Dumbledore whispered, "No."

The spirit pointed at the tomb, and the old man took a hesitant step towards it.

"No…they can't have been talking about me! The future is happy! No war, no death! They will all live happily ever after, they must!"

The spirit did not reply, merely pointed again at the marble.

"This…this isn't irreversible, is it?" the old man visibly shrank, "This is just what might come to pass, not what must come to pass. I can't change the past, but I can change my ways. I promise I will. Please…don't let it be too late…"

He sank to his knees, face in his hands, sobs wreaking his shoulders. Harry and Severus stood transfixed, watching the huddled figure with a mixture of awe, pity and horror.

"It is over," their guide said softly, "he will wake up in his own bed once morning comes."

They were back in Harry's livingroom.

Smokey turned to them one last time. "The ritual has come to an end, and so has your journey of this night. I know you have seen and heard many things. Ponder them, and use wisely that which you have been given."


	6. The End Of It All

The End Of It All

Severus walked into the Hog's Head on Boxing Day to meet Dumbledore for a late lunch, as they had agreed earlier. Harry had insisted he keep the appointment.

"You will have to face him again sometime," his son had said.

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one that has to go," Snape had retorted with a slight sneer that did not hide the nervousness he felt.

Flashes of his first year at Hogwarts and the clenching feeling in his stomach when he was sent up to the Headmasters office went through his mind as he was directed by Aberforth to the room behind the bar.

"He's waiting for you, lad. Spent the morning here, catching up," the old man frowned a little in confusion, "he's…well. You'll see for yourself."

The bartender went back to his glasses. In the middle of the night his brother had arrived, asking to speak to him. Over a cup of tea, Albus had told him of the horrible choices he made, the fears that plagued him since their sister's death and had begged him for forgiveness, both for what happened to Ariana as well as for how he treated his brother over the years. It had been an emotional, draining conversation that had cleared up much of the resentment Aberforth still felt towards his elder brother, though he remained a little wary.

Severus bit his lip, then pushed the door open.

"Hello, Severus," the blue eyes, red-rimmed and shadowed with fatigue twinkled at him.

"Albus," Severus suddenly rushed forward and threw his arms around the older man, "I am so sorry, I never meant…I mean…"

"Hush," the Headmaster returned his embrace, then held him at arm's length. "There is no need to apologise, Severus."

"There is," the Potions Master looked down, "I…I mean…Those Spirits…the Ritual…it was my doing. Please, let me finish," he said when he saw the Headmaster open his mouth, "I know you are probably furious with me now, and you should be, but please, listen just a little longer."

He took a deep breath. "I drew Harry into it, and the condition the Spirits set was that we had to watch. I…I am sorry for putting you through all that, but mostly I am sorry for not realizing that you are only human too, that we have made mistakes as well and should allow you the same. We should not demand you be perfect. And…and…what you said to me when I came back to you, I deserved that. You were right to be disgusted by me. You should not feel guilty or try to excuse me…"

Continuing to stare at the floor, Snape trailed off. A soft chuckle, sad and at the same time joyful, made him look up.

"My dear child," Dumbledore said gently, "I knew…no, I had hoped that it was you and Harry that started the ritual…"

Severus's eyes widened.

"I do know how to research, Severus," Dumbledore chided teasingly, "It did not take me very long to find the ritual, and when I read that the caster has to genuinely care about the person visited…well, I would like to say that I knew or suspected, but the truth is I hoped that Harry or you…or both…were the casters. That would mean that you did still care for me, which is far more than I deserve. And, depressingly enough, there isn't an abundance of potential candidates."

He moved his hands from Severus's upper arms to his shoulder and the back of his neck.

"I am a stubborn old man, Severus, who is very used to meddling. I cannot promise a complete transformation in just one night, but I am going to do everything I can. I will need you and Harry to tell me when I start to go wrong again. Alright?"

Severus nodded. "Harry and I learned a few things, as well," he sighed, leaning into the touch. After so many years of biting everyone's head off who even offered so much as a handshake, it felt alien, but _good_. "Will you come over soon? So we can talk, just the three of us?"

"Of course I will," the Headmaster smiled at him, but this time it was not the 'I will give you a scrap of affection so that you will behave the way I wish' smile Severus had come to hate. It was a genuine warm smile, one that promised the Headmaster had truly changed for the better and was intending to keep it up.

"Now, Abe made an excellent lunch. Shall we?"

sssssssssss

It was, of course, quite impossible to set the Wizarding World to rights overnight. It took Harry, Severus and their friends many years. Hermione came back from Australia as England's first all-round master at Severus's request and did much to reshape both the Hogwarts and the Ministry into functional, high-quality institutions. The Potions Master, realizing the damage he had done to his art by the role he had to play during the war, rejoined Hogwarts staff eventually as a part-time teacher for the NEWT classes and proved to be a much better teacher the second time around.

Albus Dumbledore gave up his attempts to manage everything on his own. He resigned from Hogwarts and focussed all his attention on fighting the general apathy among the Wizarding population. He made his apologies and amends where he could, but stressed that they had barely survived the last Dark Lord – it would not do to wait quietly for the emergence of yet another one. To Severus and Harry, he no longer was a man to be feared, but became a second father.

When he finally died twenty years after his eventful Christmas night, his very private funeral was attended only by his brother, Harry, Severus, and a handful of his closest friends. But he was mourned by thousands of others who no longer remembered his faults, but only his valiant efforts to change for the better.


End file.
